The more Allen thought about it, the more he felt these monster nests resembled the behavior patterns of the water hag he had encountered near the cave of Old Speartip before descending the mountain.
Both had appeared after a Conjunction of the Spheres, their power far exceeding that of their kin, and they displayed unusual behavior compared to others of their kind.
Especially the unusual behavior…
The water hag had constructed a gruesome effigy with the heads of drowners as a sacrificial totem for a dark god. The scene was still etched vividly in his memory.
It was precisely because of that effigy that Allen had been marked by the giant-eyed dark deity, forcing him to visit the Temple of Melitele in Ellander as soon as the apprentice dueling tournament in Ban Ard concluded.
Everything that followed—being attacked by Tomas Moreau, the hunt for the archgriffin, the martial law in Vengerberg, the Wild Hunt attack on the Flotsam Harbor, and the events of the May Day Festival in Aedirn—
all of it could be traced back to that strange water hag.
Now, these monster nests displayed similarly bizarre behavior.
Despite having amassed such vast numbers of necrophages, they had not attacked villages. Instead, they stealthily stole corpses and hunted forest beasts.
This was beyond abnormal.
"Could it be that these monster nests, like the water hag, are worshipers of some dark god?" Allen mused. "Or perhaps the dark god itself slipped into the Witcher's world during the Conjunction of the Spheres?"
"No, that sounds too much like post hoc rationalization," he countered himself. "The monster nests only appeared after the Conjunction; this is merely my conjecture. Furthermore, while monster nests seem intelligent, they are fundamentally different from the inherently cunning water hags."
"Can a monster nest, which begins as a mindless factory for breeding necrophages and only gains some intelligence upon spawning alghouls, truly become a dark god's follower?"
Allen was about to dismiss the notion altogether.
In truth, he didn't want the monster nests to be associated with a dark god.
After all, ordinary monsters and the followers of dark gods were fundamentally different.
Necrophages killed and hoarded bodies by nature, but dark god worshipers did so with the likely purpose of summoning their deity.
Just the thought of the latter possibility made Allen's expression darken.
Wait!
There was another factor yet to be confirmed…
The water hag had arrived in this world through an Elemental Circle. Could the monster nests…
"Is there a source of magical energy nearby?" Allen turned to Arthur. "Or any ruins from the Aen Seidhe era?"
"A source of magic... ruins…" Arthur frowned, his expression thoughtful.
"I'm not sure about any magical energy sources nearby. You'd need to ask Lady Augusta, Lord Mason's mage advisor, for that," Arthur said, wiping sweat from his brow. "As for Aen Seidhe ruins…"
"Sir Allen, perhaps you're unaware…"
"Vizima and Aedirn themselves were built atop the ruins of the Aen Seidhe's courts. Temeria is littered with elven ruins."
Allen nodded at this information, not particularly surprised. He had only asked as a precaution.
Ordinary sources of magical energy were just areas with higher elemental concentration. They didn't grant magical affinity or produce rare resources.
Such places were mainly sought after by practitioners of mysticism—witchers, sorcerers, and druids—for specific rituals.
Even then, these environments were often substitutable.
For instance, activating the medallion of the Wolf School didn't strictly require a magical nexus. It was essentially a finished product and could be activated even by a novice mage.
In contrast, ordinary people living near sources of magic risked elemental corruption and physical deformities.
Thus, common folk rarely knew or needed to know about such places.
However, if someone as knowledgeable about Mahakam's terrain as Arthur couldn't confirm the presence of such a site, it was likely that…
"Wait…" Arthur interrupted Allen's thoughts, making his heart skip a beat.
Arthur looked up at the dense canopy, recalling something.
"But Derrick once mentioned…"
"There's an ancient, decayed tower in the mountains behind his village."
"Do you know where it is?" Allen asked urgently.
"I've never been there, but while I was a guest at his house, Derrick pointed it out. It should be…"
Arthur paused, stepping aside to orient himself with the direction of Moën Village and the sun's position. Then, he pointed northwest.
Allen's face darkened. He crouched down and closed his eyes in deep thought.
Squish… squish…
The sound of writhing flesh echoed loudly in his mind once more. The direction…
Allen's eyes snapped open.
It matched Arthur's.
Swallowing hard, Allen realized he could no longer dismiss the idea. The possibility that these monster nests were followers of a dark god was disturbingly high.
"What's wrong, Sir Allen? Is there something wrong with that tower?"
Arthur's voice trembled as he noticed Allen's grim expression. A foreboding sense of calamity filled his chest.
Allen slowly stood and, after weighing the consequences, decided to speak truthfully.
"These seven monster nests might not just be factories for producing necrophages. They could very well be followers of a dark god."
"Followers of a dark god…" Arthur's eyes widened. "Those mindless necrophages could be dark god worshipers?"
Allen didn't immediately answer. He turned to Vesemir, whose face mirrored Arthur's shock.
"Do you remember why we came to Aedirn in the first place?" Allen asked.
"To deal with a dark god's curse," Vesemir replied, frowning. Then, his expression shifted. "Wait… you mentioned Elemental Circles earlier… Are you suggesting…?"
"I once encountered a water hag who used drowner heads in a ritual to worship a dark god," Allen said gravely. "I stumbled upon her altar and was cursed by that god as a result."
Arthur, listening to the conversation between the two witchers, felt utterly bewildered.
He didn't understand Elemental Circles or their relation to sources of magic. Nor did he comprehend why it was strange for a water hag to construct an effigy.
But Vesemir's expression was growing increasingly grim.
The veteran witcher… believed Allen.
Arthur's limited knowledge of the occult was enough for him to grasp one thing: life—more specifically, flesh and blood—was essential for certain forbidden rituals.
These dark god worshipers had already gathered hundreds, perhaps thousands, of necrophages in these remote mountains…
What were they planning?!
---------------------
"Arthur!"
"Arthur!"
"Ah!" Arthur snapped back to reality, his body drenched in cold sweat.
"Are you alright?" Allen asked with concern.
"I... I'm fine..." Arthur swallowed hard, his throat feeling parched as if it were on fire.
"Is... is it true? A dark god?" He cautiously glanced at Vesemir, deliberately avoiding Allen's gaze, seeking confirmation.
"I wish I could say no," Vesemir replied, "but unfortunately, it's the most plausible explanation."
"You know as well as I do how peculiar the behavior of these monster nests has been..."
"Despite producing so many necrophages, they've merely stolen corpses instead of launching large-scale attacks on villages..."
"They not only use their weakest links as bait, feigning vulnerability, but also learn and adapt during combat…"
With the worst-case scenario seemingly confirmed, Arthur took a deep breath, calming himself.
"What can I do?" he asked.
Vesemir gave him an approving look. "Go back and inform Sara of the situation here. Have him prepare the village. Also, notify the old Duke as quickly as possible..."
"And the Archpriestess!" Allen interjected, not forgetting how much he'd suffered under the "gaze of dark god." "Ask Mother Ianna if there's any way to avoid drawing the attention of a dark god."
"What about the two of you?" Arthur asked, nodding.
"Erni and the others will escort you back. As for us…"
"Vesemir, Master!" the young witcher grumbled, interrupting Vesemir's words in protest.
"Enough! Listen to me!" Vesemir snapped, his brows furrowing. Ignoring the young witcher's resentful glare, he continued, "Allen and I will keep searching for the remaining monster nests and see if we can locate the 'Count' from a distance…"
Arthur looked worried. "But the Mahakam mountains are treacherous. Without a guide, it's easy to get lost."
Allen and Vesemir exchanged glances and chuckled.
Allen's abilities had long surpassed the need for conventional navigation.
"Don't worry, we have our ways. Now, off you go… Erni, Claral, take the others and ensure Sir Arthur's safety…"
"Yes!"
"Got it!"
The young witchers responded begrudgingly.
Arthur opened his mouth, wanting to mention how even the most experienced hunters wouldn't venture this far into the Mahakam range without a guide. But before he could speak, he saw Allen kneeling and closing his eyes.
Within moments, Allen's meditative trance pinpointed the exact location of the monster nest they'd been unable to locate for days.
The serene and confident look on Allen's face left Arthur speechless. In the end, he could only say, "Be careful," and leave with the reluctant young witchers, disappearing into the dense forest.
---------------------------
"Finally, they're gone…" Vesemir sighed, watching the clearing become silent once more.
Allen, noticing Vesemir's demeanor, joked, "Is taking care of the kids that exhausting?"
"You're not much older than them," Vesemir retorted with a smirk. "And don't forget, Commander Allen, you're the one supposed to be leading these kids as a master witcher..."
Their light-hearted banter eased the tense atmosphere left behind by the others' departure.
"I've already sent word to the girl," Allen suddenly remarked, his tone shifting to seriousness.
"Then let's move. If we wait for your girl to show up, we might miss our chance to see what's really going on." Vesemir glanced down the valley, where the grotesque horde of necrophages writhed and swarmed like maggots, carrying fragmented remains of flesh and bone.
He turned to Allen and asked, "Do you know the way?"
"No need to," Allen replied, pointing toward the obscured section of the valley, shrouded by boulders and dense woods. "The 'Count' is there…"
---------------------------------
This land was a desolate wasteland. Wild grasses grew untamed, and twisted tree roots and branches stretched like demonic claws from the depths of hell.
What made the atmosphere even more suffocating was the eerie silence—despite the dense foliage, not a single creature stirred.
A faint stench of decay lingered in the air.
"Poorly concealed…" Vesemir muttered as they advanced, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "This silence is enough to make my hair stand on end."
Allen shrugged uncomfortably, the oppressive atmosphere weighing on him. "Indeed, it's crude. But it could also mean we're close enough."
"Squish—"
The sound of flesh squelching and writhing echoed in Allen's mind, vividly conjuring the image of grotesque beasts devouring rotting flesh and digesting it through their pulsating intestines.
The mere thought was enough to make him nauseous.
"Roar—"
A guttural, yet oddly immature growl accompanied by the sound of excretion told Allen that another monstrous abomination had just been birthed into this world.
"Are you alright?" Vesemir asked, concerned. "Do you need to rest?"
"I'm fine," Allen shook his head, banishing the unsettling thoughts clouding his mind. He pointed toward the ochre slope ahead. "It's just over there."
It truly was.
As they leapt onto a bare hilltop, the sight that greeted them forced both witchers to instinctively grip the hilts of their silver swords.
Red—bright red, dark crimson, and every shade in between.
A sea of blood and gore stretched for nearly a kilometer, blanketing the valley like a gaping wound carved into the earth itself.
Parasites seemed to writhe across this grotesque carpet of flesh. But on closer inspection, Allen and Vesemir realized it was thousands of necrophages, relentlessly hauling corpses—human, animal, and monstrous alike.
This valley was a slaughterhouse, and they hadn't even glimpsed the "Count" yet.
The two witchers exchanged a glance, releasing the hilts of their swords with a long, measured breath.
They saw the shock and traces of fear mirrored in each other's eyes. Without a word, they crouched low and moved carefully along the ridge toward the direction of the necrophages' grisly work.
"Whoosh—"
The mountain winds carried the thick stench of blood and decay.
"Buzz—"
"Buzz—"
Their medallions began to hum softly.
On the distant peak of the mountain, the silhouette of a round tower came into view, its crumbling structure adorned with the decadent artistry of the Aen Seidhe.
Allen immediately understood—this dilapidated tower was the elven ruin Arthur had mentioned.
The two witchers exchanged another look, then continued ascending the ridge.
Domes, arched windows, walls carved with ships and dragons… and then, a gaping doorway.
A doorway sealed by an enormous, fleshy red eyelid.
An eyelid?
Something felt off.
And then—
The fleshy, blood-red eyelid clinging to the tower suddenly snapped open.
A massive dragon-like crimson slit-pupil locked eyes with Allen.
"Squish—"
The sound of writhing flesh in his mind abruptly stopped.
.....
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 30 advanced chapters of American Comics: Multiverse of Madness.
2. 30 advanced chapters of Warhammer, but Emperor's Chosen.
3. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.